


Rhizophora

by TLI



Category: Rhizome
Genre: Co-workers, Locker Room, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Plants, Vines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 00:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15570066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TLI/pseuds/TLI
Summary: Your final day at work in the year 2912. The dream job where your coworker is hot and chill, and you love your boss.





	Rhizophora

In the preparation room I see Alyx arrived a couple minutes before me today. I decode my locker, shed my civilian clothes in two movements and try to catch up with him as he steps into the legs of his florasuit.

I met Alyx when we were both 20, when we were selected for the municipanery together and began training as horticultists. It’s funny that, in a way, I could say he’s changed a lot since then but also he hasn’t changed at all.

He wears his hair long now. I remember when we met his hair was short enough that I could see the skin of his scalp. His body seems longer now, though I know he can’t actually have grown much after the age of 20. It’s just that his body is more conspicuous to me now. I don’t remember noticing the way his skin keeps the muscles in place, long veins running along each bicep, one of the back of each forearm, another on the top of each forearm.

He pulls up his suit over his legs and white compression shorts, up to his abs and obliques. Those thin muscles over his ribs fascinate me I want to touch them with my face to feel where the rib bones end and flesh begins. I would take my time, and then go down. I want to live there, breathing through my nose with my eyes closed. My full slippery mouth is the entire universe.

I look up to make eye contact. We will lock eyes, halfway into our suits. Alyx will notice I’ve been working out. He’ll be impressed by how fit I am. I’ll say I’m harder than he is these days. Alyx says he needs to feel mine to see. With our unzipped suits hanging off our waists, he circles close behind me. His arms wrap around, flat hands on my chest and stomach. Every bit of his skin is touching my entire back. He’s warm. Alyx slides his hands down.

But Alyx didn’t meet my eyes, he was busy zipping up his suit and securing his oxygen flap.

Alyx’s body reminds me of an infobeam I watched a couple days ago. An archaeography expedition researching ancient cult rituals. Long before the Rhizopharchy, human society thought plants were weak and ate mostly the flesh of beasts. What still makes me laugh from the beam is that they thought human bodies couldn’t grow strong just from plants. Alyx’s glowing body is the most obvious evidence I’ve seen for the Rhizopharchy; every molecule from the flora we are blessed with; he is perfect.

We finish suiting up. Walking out into the citadel we make small talk about the inept soil acidity team and what holoscrolls we’re reading lately.

The citadel is the most beautiful place on earth. Everyone says so. An oval one kilometer long and .62 kilometers wide. More than 300 meters tall at its peak. And everywhere, the Rhizophora grow. Their favorite places are along the filtration pools, full of slow water with subtle ripples shaping mirror surfaces.

I love how the light reflects on the water. How the air smells humid and lush. This place has everything life needs: light, water, heat, nutrients.

The Rhizophora we tend are almost three meters tall. A roaming species, they move slowly enough that it’s difficult to notice but I know in moments of stress their stalks can twitch or roll extremely quickly. The oldest ones don’t need tending, and are as tall as nine meters. In our ceremonies we call these old ones citizens. We honor them as the first generation of the true life.

A wide trunk rises straight up from a surface root system that rarely goes below ground. The trunk splits into 14 stalks each with a wide flopping leaf. The trunk and stalks are green from a distance but up close hints of purple pigment are visible. Dark leaf tips form jagged boundaries from purple to the green of the rest of the body.

The entire organism is coated in an invisible layer of cilia that act like glue to anything but themselves. I use my pruning staff to unstick anything from the plants. An electric charge from the tip of the staff make the cilia relax completely.

I have never touched the Rhizophora directly. Every year one or two horticultists are found dead in the gardens, suffocated or crushed by the growing stalks and vines. Tragic accidents. Though I’ve heard rumors that some go willingly to the Rhizophora.

I love the Rhizophora. More than anything, more than Alyx. The source of all life. Nothing is more beautiful. It’s an honor greater than anything I can imagine to just approach them and serve them. Most humans never get this chance.

Today is routine monitoring of foliage density and testing of soil nutrients. I also check soil acidity as we go just to make sure. Alyx and I carefully navigate our way through the foliage, leaving no trace.

Something is wrong today. The banks of the fore filtration pools are empty. We proceed with our testing. As we approach the center of the gardens, where three filtration pools intersect, we see a dense cluster of Rhizophora. It looks strange. I realize the angle of stalks poking up at the center is wrong, I can see the underside of huge leaves two meters wide. A giant citizen lies on its side in the center.

I look back at the closest Rhizophora. Now they are facing us.

In the blink of an eye, supple vines dart out and firmly wrap around my thighs, upper arms and chest. My pruning staff goes flying.

The acidity. We killed a citizen.

Vines wrap and twist, gripping tighter and tighter over my body. The seams of my suit strain and tear open. My sweaty skin is exposed to the air, the cool ventilation feels refreshing for a moment.

But I can’t move. I don’t know what to do. I failed. I submit. Or I should fight back. I could struggle, strike the Rhizophora’s fruit bud with my loose foot, get out, run away. But I’m not sure I’d be able to. The Rhizophora tower over me, backlit by the shimmering golden light of water filtered UV LEDs shining down from the citadel ceiling far above. This is divinity. If this is the last thing I see I’ll almost be happy. The vines tighten.

I am glad I get to touch them like this. I like it. You’re never supposed to let a Rhizophora touch you. My heart is pounding. I flex my core and lean into the vines.

Alyx is yelling at me for help, then yelling at the Rhizophora to let him go. He does not have true respect. He still thinks humans deserve more life than others. His screams become wordless, a wet popping sound and he’s silent. The muffled thump of water dumped on soil. I can smell the red mist. I can’t move my head to look.

The vines squirm and tighten across my body, spiraling across my skin. Shreds of my florasuit fall to the ground below me. My feet aren’t touching the ground. I give myself up to you, Rhizophora.

The vines contract. I feel the blood pulse through my body. My dick is hanging thick and throbbing as hard as my head.

I feel the pull in my arms and legs, spreading me out. I can’t tell how many vines and how many Rhizophora are holding me now. The pressure of wrapping vines is more vivid on my nipples than the rest of my chest. The vine around my neck chokes me heavy and gentle.

My lips tingle and ears pound. My lips are barely parted. I want to taste the glistening dark skin of their vines so badly. The head of my cock is so swollen it hurts. It’s wonderful.

My arms and legs are pulled in every direction. The pull across my arms is so strong I can’t help but fight against it now. Every muscle across my chest is rigid, just to survive. I can’t control any of this. I’m watching someone on an infobeam, jerking off as they tie him up.

Alyx is gone. My life is gone. It’s just my body that’s left, for the Rhizophora.

The vines wrap tighter everywhere. I can’t feel the individual vines around my crotch, it’s all one pressure. My vision clouds. The vines squeeze and pull hard and steady. The pain is pure white. The vines wrapping around my stomach press my navel. The vines squirm tighter around the top of my thighs, up my ass. My dick pulses in the air, precum streaming. A vine I can’t see finally wraps my cock, so smooth I can’t feel it except moist pressure and firmness.

Please, Rhizophora. Show me the way.

Waves of pain flash through my body. Waves of pleasure build and swell from my groin through my stomach and limbs. The waves build and crash until I can’t find the space between cycles, I can’t feel the build of the waves. Waves of pain and pleasure so large the pounding in my arteries is a new life I never knew before. I am inside and surrounded.

The pull on my arms is blinding. Every muscle locks and fights to just not burst. I’m trembling uncontrollably. I’m held still through my spasms by the vines.

At the will of Rhizophora. This is intended. I want this, badly. I surrender to it.

My mind is blank. Every instinct is in the struggle. I carefully clear my mind. I slow the spasms to resist, and stop them. Give me my release. I can’t control the intensity in my cock.

I let my shoulders go. The sockets relax for a split second before dislocating. I can’t feel the new pain among the consuming intensity of my entire body. My dick feels anchored like a rock as that vine tightens strongest.

My left shoulder rends. Exquisite. Pure light. My right leg is torn off at the hip. My blood rushes to be part of the soil below. The last of my body is electric.

There is no pain. There is no self. I give. I am the Rhizophora. In one instant, I cum, and all is dark.


End file.
